


Blessed in motherly ways

by jellyfitzjelly



Series: Blessed in motherly ways [3]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Babysitting, Fluff, Francis the official Joplittle babysitter, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfitzjelly/pseuds/jellyfitzjelly
Summary: Francis babysits the Jopson-Little children for a day, with the help of James. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Thomas Jopson/Edward Little
Series: Blessed in motherly ways [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202099
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Blessed in motherly ways

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jellyfitzjelly) and [Tumblr](https://jellyfitzjelly.tumblr.com/) under the same username. Come say hi!

Francis had never been very religious. It was his greatest flaw if you believed his grandmother. His familiarity with the Bible was sketchy at the very least, but he was pretty sure the Virgin must have cradled and fed her babe the very same way Thomas Jopson did his. For obviously Edward’s wards had earned a spot in his steward’s heart. Little and Jopson’s friendship had been an unexpected consequence of their hellish expedition, but he knew better than anyone how adversity could get men close. As close as brothers.

His mind wandered to James Fitzjames.

Francis shoved the thought away immediately. What he felt for the man was not brotherly affection, despite the genuine friendship he had grown with him. No, it was a feeling he thought he had entertained for Sophia... Shaking his musings away, he smiled to Jopson.

“Kitty falls asleep easier when she’s fed before bed,” explained the man softly, the babe suckling her bottle in the nest of his arm.

“You look like you’ve done that all your life.”

“I used to do it for my brother, when my mother was too tired at night.”

Thomas then paced slowly the living room, rocking her gently as he hummed a small tune. Francis was reminded of his own childhood surrounded by female relatives and their children, their belly always ripe.

“I’ll put her to bed,” Jopson whispered, carrying the sleeping girl carefully as he went to climb the stairs up to the guest room.

Edward was waiting for him, watching over Mary and Willy asleep. The little ones had looked uneasy when they had arrived at Crozier’s house earlier this day. Mary had quietly asked “Dada” (they had been surprised by the name at first; it had come spontaneously to them one day, and Edward had had the sneaking suspicion they had called their biological father like this; the name was only fitting for Thomas) if they were leaving them here, the fear in her eyes causing Tom to lock her tight in his arms. He had promised it was only for one night and gave her his waistcoat watch.

“Tomorrow, when the small needle is on the one, we’ll be back.”

The girl had cradled the clock with fascination, her fear forgotten, and had ran off to proudly show Willy the sacred object she had been entrusted with.

“I am to receive James tomorrow morning,” told them Crozier as they came back downstairs. “I am confident he shall keep the little devils occupied ‘til you come back.”

He wished them a goodnight as they left his house, Edward to a classical concerto and Thomas probably to an evening with his family. Before Francis retired to his bed, he silently pushed the door of the guest room to peek at the three little huddled forms under the sheets. He felt strangely thankful, to whom he did not know, to be able to witness this. He went to sleep content that night, unafraid of the nightmares of white ice and ghostly screams lurking in his mind.

James, like the damn scoundrel he was, came so early that Francis was still sleeping. His ensuing foul mood didn’t affect the commander in the least and even he joked about his friend’s sleep schedule. As always, Francis could not stay annoyed very long at James, and soon enough the two were engaged in their usual conversations about the Admiralty and the latest gossip running around the ballrooms of London. At ten the children came downstairs for their breakfast. James seemed drawn like a magnet to them. He left Francis without a single glance for him and sat down at the table with them. He lightened up, becoming livelier and livelier as he endeavored to make the children laugh. Francis watched them with begrudging fondness, and he felt again overwhelmed with thankfulness. When Mary asked James if it would be long before “the needle got on the one”, James answered with undisguised mirth that time was always very short when one was having fun.

Once breakfast finished, they all relocated to the living room where the maid had laid out the toys the children had taken with them. Francis was quite amused by their two ragdolls. They were unmistakably effigies of Edward and Thomas, the former dressed in his naval uniform while the latter was in a bright colored suit. The two men were regaled by Mary’s imitations of her keepers. James, an excellent mimic himself (Francis had discovered that to his own expense at the start of the Franklin expedition, during a dinner with the officers), told him confidently the girl had great talent. Willy then pretended to shave his sister with a comb, and Francis was oddly reminded of his steward’s efficient and expert way of shaving. James, for his part, was positively howling with laughter. Then the boy leaned down and planted kisses on his sister’s face. The captain froze.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Dada always kisses Papa,” answered the boy as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The laughter died in James’ throat.

“James…” Francis growled when he saw the twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

“They kiss?” asked the commander most innocently, deaf to his warning.

The children assented.

“How do they kiss? Do they kiss on the cheek?”

“ _James!_ ”

Neither the commander nor the youngsters paid attention to him. Mary shook her head and he asked the girl to show him how they kissed with undisguised interest. Delighted of being the center of attention again, the girl fetched her ragdolls and pressed their heads together.

“Mwah, mwah, I love you Tom, mwah!” she mimicked, her rendition of Edward’s speech most vivid.

A great silence fell in the room. Sensing she had accomplished her task, the girl went back to playing pretend with her brother. James let out a long shaky breath and slumped backward on the sofa. Francis turned to look at him.

“I never thought…” began the commander.

“Me neither. I suppose…that adversity truly brings people close.”

Something passed in James’ eyes, something that looked hopeful and afraid at the same time to Francis.

“Just like us,” then breathed James, barely louder than a whisper, not truly a statement but not entirely a question neither.

Francis’ heart leaped, though not in fear. Not anymore.

“Yes,” he said loud and clear. “Yes, James.”

True to their word, Edward and Thomas knocked on Francis’ door at one o’clock sharp. Their time together, their undivided attention on each other, had left them beaming and pleasantly sore.

“Have you been nice?” asked Edward sternly, and the children assented gravely.

“They have been a real delight, lieutenant. Mary especially has a real talent for imitation,” chirped in James, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Francis elbowed him with a warning look, but the scoundrel did not look deterred in the least.

“Mary,” he said, “show Papa and Dada what you showed us with your dolls today.”

The girl, delighted to please her dear Uncle James (he was now Uncle James to the youngsters), ran to fetch her ragdolls. Francis looked ready to smite his friend on the head. He flickered a dismayed and apologetic look to Thomas and Edward. The girl came back and proudly repeated her rendition of her guardians kissing. James bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Jopson pale, horror on his face, while the lieutenant was growing steadily red in the face, wide-eyed, the very picture of shocked embarrassment. He started to stammer, but he was stopped by Jopson.

“The children are young and full of imagination. They love to play pretend,” he explained calmly, although his pallor betrayed his true emotions.

“Children are the mirror of parents,” answered Crozier as he clasped his shoulder. “And in this case, I see a lot of love reflected. Happiness too.”

Edward let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Tom looked on the verge of breaking down.

“Come, let us have tea,” said Fitzjames with kindness. “I think you dearly need some.”

When the little family eventually set off at the end of the afternoon, looking much more serene, Francis and James saw them off at the doorstep.

“Does it ever make you yearn for a family of your own?” asked quietly the captain as the carriage departed.

James huffed.

“I’d be the worst father in England. No, I am quite content with what I have…especially now.”

His last words had been no louder than a whisper. Francis felt his fingers brush his hand. He caught them and slid his hand in his own, squeezing tightly. James looked at him with a small grin.

“Yes,” he drawled as his grin widened, “ _very_ content.”


End file.
